Burrell hemmed and ha'd at this direct query, and answered, "Well, we
don't act exactly right toward them, I must confess."
Mrs. Burrell rose, and took the vacant knee of her husband, and toying with
the baby, said, "Now, George Burrell, I want to ask a favour of you. Why
can't _you_ take this boy ?" "I take him! why, my dear, I don't want an
apprentice."
"Yes, but you must _make_ a want. You said he was a bright boy, and
sketched well. Why, I should think that he's just what you ought to have.
There is no one at your office that would oppose it. Cummings and Dalton
were with your father before you, they would never object to anything
reasonable that you proposed. Come, dear! do now make the trial--won't
you?"
Mr. Burrell was a tender-hearted, yielding sort of an individual; and what
was more, his wife was fully aware of it; and like a young witch as she
was, she put on her sweetest looks, and begged so imploringly, that he was
almost conquered. But when she took up the baby, and made him put his
chubby arms round his father's neck, and say "pese pop-pop," he was
completely vanquished, and surrendered at discretion.
"I'll see what can be done," said he, at last.
"And will you do it afterwards?" she asked, archly.
"Yes, I will, dear, I assure you," he rejoined.
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